The Book of the Dead (35 page)

“Take off the mask,” said the Pharaoh. “I would see your face, Hery Sesheta.”

Amun reached up and lifted the mask clear. His face now wore the lines of middle age, the weathering of a life spent on the edge of the desert. It had been twenty five years since he had stood beside Ramesses as his father was washed and oiled, a long reign by any standards, a great reign, perhaps the greatest of them all, with no end in sight. But time had taken its toll on the Pharaoh too; his once clear skin was now marked and ridged with scars, his eyes were sunken, and his spine was beginning to curve alarmingly, causing him to walk with a stick when not in public.

“I am here, your Highness,” said Amun.

“Stand by me,” said Ramesses. “As you always have.”

Amun swallowed hard, and walked across the Ibu. He was slower than he had been, far slower than when they had first met, when he had all but skipped across the sand to take his place at the young prince’s side. As soon as he was within reach, Ramesses’ hand shot out and gripped his arm, the knuckles white with effort; it hurt, but Amun gave no sign of it.

“You once asked me about grief,” said Ramesses, his gaze fixed on the remains of his wife. “About sadness. I gave you a foolish answer. Do you remember?”

“I do,” said Amun. “You told me that grieving for the dead was selfish.”

“And it is,” said Ramesses. “By any measure, it is. But I would give anything in the empire, anything in all the worlds and heavens to have her breathe again. Does that make me weak?”

“No,” said Amun, his voice cracking. “It makes you human.”

Ramesses turned to face him, and for a fleeting moment, Amun saw the boy the Pharaoh had been; his whole life ahead of him, able to dismiss grief because he had never experienced it, full of the heavy certainty of youth. Then he was gone, replaced by the grown man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Do it,” he said, his voice low and full of pain. “Open her mouth. Let us send her onwards. Perhaps she will wait for me on the other side.”

Prehotep brought the chariot to a halt outside the Ibu, and offered his arm. Amun refused it, and stepped carefully down onto the desert floor on his own.

The vast tent was perched on the western edge of the Valley of the Kings, above the resting places of countless Pharaohs and their families. The tomb in which the mortal remains of Ramesses II would lay for all eternity was waiting below, opposite the enormous labyrinth of rooms in which his children and wives, better than five dozen of them, lay in silent rest. The tomb of Nefertari, the grandest and most lavish of them all, was beside Ramesses’ own.

The Vizier’s retinue formed a guard, two silent lines of dark robes and lowered eyes. Amun walked through it, his head raised, his mind focused solely on the fulfilment of a vow that was more than half a century old. He carried with him his linen sack, and he walked as steadily as he was able. That he was old was impossible to hide, but the watching soldiers need not know just how infirm he had become. He looked straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the Ibu, and stepped through it.

For a long moment, he couldn’t breathe.

He had prepared himself for this moment, ever since word had begun to spread through the empire that the Pharaoh was gone, had believed he had steeled himself further during the journey in the Vizier’s chariot. But now that he was here, now that his friend, the man who in many ways had been the great constant of his long life, was actually lying before him, he faltered. His legs threatened to give way beneath him, but Prehotep’s hand was there again, unasked for but not unwelcome, holding Amun gently until he regained his composure.

Arranged along the opposite side of the Ibu were the priests of Anubis, every one of which had been admitted into the temple during Amun’s time as Hery Sesheta. The majority were watching him with the professional dispassion he expected, but his experienced eyes saw flickers of concern on several of their faces. At the centre of the line stood Masud, the priest who it had been Amun’s final act to promote to Hery Sesheta in his place. He was holding his jackal mask in his hands, and looking at Amun with great warmth in his gaze.

On the stone table lay the mummified remains of Ramesses II, the God-King, the Light of Ra, the Breath of the World. Amun’s professional eye examined the mummy, and concluded that the work was good; the painting of Osiris was perhaps the most beautiful he had seen, in all his long years. On a smaller table lay the cloth and strips of linen that would make the final wrapping; beyond them stood the two coffins that would convey the Pharaoh down to his tomb. There, the priests and mourners would share the funeral meal and make offerings of meat, before the rooms were sealed forever. There was a single thing to be done first.

The Opening of the Mouth.

Unless the ritual was performed perfectly, Ramesses would not be able to eat, drink, or speak in the afterlife. It was of vital importance, and Amun had promised that it would not be done by anyone else.

“Hery Sesheta,” said Masud, smiling gently. “It is good to see you. Would you wear my mask?”

“Thank you, Masud,” said Amun. “But I will wear my own, if that does not offend?”

“It does not, Hery Sesheta,” replied Masud, then turned to his priests. “Clear the Ibu.”

The priests turned silently and exited the tent, without a backward glance between them. Amun admired their stoicism; it was as it should be, death treated as ritual and ceremony and work. He had instilled that focus into every priest he had taught, and was heartened to see their resolve hold. His own was another matter.

“The libations and offerings have been made,” said Masud. “The ritual is all but complete. I will leave you to finish it.”

“As will I,” said Prehotep. “When it is done, give word.”

“I will,” said Amun, his gaze still locked on the mummy.

The Vizier and the Hery Sesheta both nodded, and left the Ibu. Amun waited until the flap of cloth had swung back into place, then addressed the body of his friend.

“I am here, your Highness,” he said, his voice low and thick. “You cannot know it, but I am here. We are together in this place a final time.”

He lifted the linen sack onto the stone table and opened it. His Anubis mask gleamed under the flickering light of the torches that stood around the edges of the tent; beside it lay a small ornate axe, its head smooth and sharp, its handle carefully painted with inscriptions from the
Book of the Dead
.

“I did not believe I would see this day,” said Amun. “I held my vow, and nothing would have seen me break it, other than my own death. But I did not truly believe I would stand here, old as I am, with you gone. I am sad, your Highness, and although I know that would not meet with your approval, you are no longer here to tell me so. I would not bring you back, even if such a thing were possible, as I do not believe you would want me to. Instead I will do all that it remains within my power to do. I will send you onwards, in health, in strength, ready to experience the wonders of the next world. And in time, I will follow you.”

Amun raised the mask of Anubis, his hands trembling slightly, and carefully placed it over his head. It seemed so familiar, so right, that he wondered briefly why he had ever taken it off. Then he ordered himself to focus, to put aside the grief that was flooding through him, and raised the axe.

Gently, taking the utmost care, he touched the sharp head against the lips and eyes of the mummy. Then he placed it down, and began to recite words he had long known by heart.

I have pressed your mouth to your bones for you,

whom Horus did take as his Great in Power,

whom Seth did take as his Great in Power.

She has brought you all gods, so you may make them live.

You have come into being in your strength,

to select your protection of life,

to guard against his death.

You have come into being as the sustenance of all gods,

and arisen as dual king, with power over all gods.

Oh Osiris, Shu son of Atum, as he lives, you live.

Sharpness is yours.

Glory is yours.

Homage is yours.

Power is yours, for he has not died.

Horus has opened your mouth for you,

he opens your eyes for you with the Great-of-Power blade,

with which the mouth of every god is opened.

As he reached the final lines, tears began to spill from Amun’s eyes; they pooled inside the mask, then dripped from the eyeholes and fell onto the smooth face of the mummy, darkening the linen with tiny explosions. When it was done, he removed the mask and bent at the waist, lowering himself unsteadily towards the tablet. His lips brushed the hard, dry surface of the mummy’s forehead.

“Life is a great house,” he whispered. “With many doors. Fare well, my friend.”

Amun straightened up, the muscles and bones in his back creaking, and shuffled towards the Ibu’s entrance, to tell the Vizier and his successor that he was done.

MAURICE BROADDUS
was originally born in London, England, but has lived in America most of his life. He holds a Bachelor’s of Science degree from Purdue University in Biology (with an undeclared major in English) and comes from a family that includes several practicing obeah (think: Jamaican voodoo) people. He whiles away his days as a freelance writer (including as a senior writer for HollywoodJesus.com) and ministry worker. He is the author of the Knights of Breton Court trilogy (Angry Robot Books) and the editor of the
Dark Faith
anthologies for Apex.

So far this year,
David Bryher
has written about ghosts, knitting, pigs, Daleks, ballroom dancing and Cleopatra. Not all at once.

JESSE BULLINGTON
is possessed of an excitable, ferret-like temperament, and is fond of good food, quality cinema, well-written books, pleasant music, scenic constitutionals, and an occasional spot of your favorite beverage. In addition to penning numerous short stories, articles, and reviews, he is the author of the novels
The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart, The Enterprise of Death
and
The Folly of the World
. Jesse also works the other end of the table, serving as editor for the forthcoming anthology
Letters to Lovecraft
.

GAIL CARRIGER
writes to cope with being raised in obscurity by an expatriate Brit and an incurable curmudgeon. She escaped small town life and inadvertently acquired several degrees in Higher Learning. Ms. Carriger then traveled the historic cities of Europe, subsisting entirely on biscuits secreted in her handbag. She resides in the Colonies, surrounded by fantastic shoes, where she insists on tea imported from London. Her Parasol Protectorate books are:
Soulless, Changeless, Blameless, Heartless
, and
Timeless
. Soulless won the ALA’s Alex Award and has been turned into a graphic novel. Her young adult Finishing School series began with
Etiquette & Espionage
and continues with
Curtsies & Conspiracies
.

PAUL CORNELL
is a writer of SF and fantasy in prose, comics and television, and one of only two people to be Hugo Award-nominated for all three media. He wrote three episodes of
Doctor Who
for the BBC,
Batman & Robin
and Superman in
Action Comics
for DC, and a mature readers series for Vertigo,
Saucer Country
. His second urban fantasy novel,
The Severed Streets
, about a modern undercover police unit in London accidentally becoming able to see dark magic and monsters, is now out from Tor in the UK this December, and in the US in April.

JONATHAN GREEN
has more than fifty books to his name. Well known for his contributions to the Fighting Fantasy range of adventure gamebooks, and numerous Black Library publications, he has also written fiction for such diverse properties as
Doctor Who, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Sonic the Hedgehog, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
and
Judge Dredd
. Jonathan is the creator of the Pax Britannia series for Abaddon Books, and has written eight novels in an ongoing series set within this alternative steampunk universe featuring the debonair dandy adventurer Ulysses Quicksilver. You can find him on Twitter at @jonathangreen as well as at JonathanGreenAuthor.com.

LOUIS GREENBERG is a freelance editor and writer. After a childhood focussed on staying out of trouble, he studied English and History and qualified with a Master’s degree on sex and family in vampire fiction. Later he returned to university for a doctorate on the post-religious apocalyptic fiction of Douglas Coupland. His first novel,
The Beggars’ Signwriters
, was shortlisted for the 2007 Commonwealth Writers’ Prize. His dystopian thriller,
Dark Windows
, will be published in 2014. Under the name S.L. Grey, he co-writes horror-thrillers with Sarah Lotz, zombie queen of the south.

MARIA DAHVANA HEADLEY
is the Nebula-nominated author of the dark fantasy/alternate history novel
Queen of Kings
, as well as the internationally bestselling memoir
The Year of Yes
. Her short fiction has appeared in
Lightspeed, Subterranean, Glitter & Mayhem
and more, and in the 2013 editions of Rich Horton’s
The Year’s Best Fantasy & Science Fiction
, and Paula Guran’s
The Year’s Best Dark Fantasy & Horror
. Most recently, with Neil Gaiman, she co-edited the young-adult monster anthology
Unnatural Creatures
, to benefit 826DC. Find her on Twitter at @mariadahvana, or on the web at www.mariadahvanaheadley.com

JENNI HILL
is a science fiction and fantasy editor who lives in North London. She grew up in a house owned by many cats.

WILL HILL
is an author. Which means he spends long periods of time staring out of windows, playing computer games, checking emails, Tweeting and generally inventing new and unusual ways to actually avoid typing any words.

GLEN MEHN
reads, writes, thinks, and drinks, all at the same time. When not saving the world by helping out early stage start-ups working on healthcare, the environment, and education he can be found trying to write his way out of his fear of the future. He lives with more computers than people and can otherwise be found either fighting crime on aeroplanes or drunk in a corridor..

ROGER LUCKHURST
is usually found crouching over a laptop writing cultural histories of supernatural things, such as
The Invention of Telepathy
and
The Mummy’s Curse: A True History of a Dark Fantasy
. He comes out at night, mostly, to teach Gothic literature at Birkbeck College, University of London.

The cartouche on
David Thomas Moore
’s (a popular if incorrect Anglicisation of a third-century Vulgate Latinisation of a pre-Christian Greek rendition of the original name) tomb identifies him as an “approver/corrector of inscriptions,” a kind of early prose editor, who appears to have lived and died in Thebes in the first half of the Eighteenth Dynasty, possibly during the reign of Thutmose II or III. His master, or employer, has been rendered variously as “Abaddon” or “Solaris.” The hieroglyphs are partly obscured by damage and erosion, but it is believed that he lived with a wife, Tamsin and daughter, Beatrix. Beyond that, only the words “barge” and “donkey” can be made out.

LOU MORGAN
‘s debut novel,
Blood and Feathers
has been nominated for two British Fantasy Awards, and the follow-up,
Blood and Feathers: Rebellion
was published by Solaris in July 2013. Her short stories have appeared in anthologies alongside fiction by Audrey Niffenegger and Joe Hill, and she cheerfully admits to having eaten a hot-dog stuffed-crust pizza.

SARAH NEWTON
is a writer of science-fiction and fantasy roleplaying games and fiction, including
Monsters & Magic
, the old-school fantasy roleplaying game,
Mindjammer, The Chronicles of Future Earth
and
Burn Shift
, the post-apocalyptic setting for Fate Core. She’s also the author of the
Mindjammer
transhuman space opera novel and numerous short stories. Sarah lives in rural France with her legendarily patient husband, an out-of-tune piano and numerous farmyard animals.

DEN PATRICK
was born in Dorset and shares a birthday with Bram Stoker. He has at various times been a comics editor, burlesque reviewer, bookseller and Games Workshop staffer. Anything to avoid getting a real job in fact. He lives and works in London. His first three books for Gollancz, the War Manuals, are released in 2013. The first novel of The Erebus Sequence,
The Boy with the Porcelain Blade
is released April 2014.

ADAM ROBERTS
was born two-thirds of the way through the last century. He is a writer of science fiction, and a professor of nineteenth-century literature, and he lives a little way west of London. His most recent novels are
By Light Alone
,
Jack Glass
and
Twenty Trillion Leagues Under the Sea
(with Mahendra Singh).

MOLLY TANZER lives in Boulder, Colorado, along the front range of the Mountains of Madness, or maybe just the Flatirons. Her debut collection,
A Pretty Mouth
(Lazy Fascist Press), has been nominated for the British Fantasy Award in the Best Newcomer category, as well as the Wonderland Book Award for Best Collection. Her second collection,
Rumbullion and Other Liminal Libations
, is forthcoming through Egaeus Press in the autumn of 2013.

MICHAEL E. WEST is the critically-acclaimed author of T
he Wide Game, Cinema of Shadows, Spook House, Skull Full of Kisses
and the
Legacy of the Gods
series. A member of the Horror Writers Association and Indiana Horror Writers, where he serves as President, West earned a degree in Telecommunications and Film Theory from Indiana University, and since that time, he has written a multitude of short stories, articles, and reviews for various on-line and print publications.

GAREN EWIG
is the creator of the Adventures of Julius Chancer, with
The Rainbow Orchid
being named one of
The Observer
’s best graphic novels of 2012. Other work includes illustrations for books, magazines, websites, DVDs, and even a Royal Mail stamp. He lives in Sussex with his wife and two children

JOHN J. JOHNSTON
is Vice-Chair of the Egypt Exploration Society. He is currently undertaking research on Ptolemaic mortuary beliefs and practices for his PhD at UCL, although his research interests encompass the reception of ancient Egypt in popular culture, sexuality in the ancient world and the history of Egyptology. He has lectured extensively on all of these topics throughout the UK and abroad and has contributed to the DVD/BD releases of two gloriously restored Hammer mummy films. In addition writing to a number of reception-based articles, he is co-editor of
Narratives of Egypt and the Ancient Near East: Literary Linguistic Approaches
(Peeters, 2011), A
Good Scribe and an Exceedingly Wise Man: studies in honour of W.J. Tait
(Golden House, In press) and an anthology of classic mummy fiction from the past,
Unearthed
(Jurassic London, 2013).

JARED SHURIN
is a certified BBQ judge.